


Some Days Aren't So Pretty

by jule1122



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of Death and Violence, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, alexweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jule1122/pseuds/jule1122
Summary: After CrashCon, Alex starts having nightmares.  Talking to Michael helps.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 46
Kudos: 250





	Some Days Aren't So Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "5150" by Love Fame Tragedy 
> 
> I wanted to write one more fic for Alex Manes week. This is belated response to Day 4's prompt Behind enemy lines. Alex has a rough time in this. Let me know if I need to add any additional warnings.

When Alex tells Forrest his PTSD triggers were complicated, he underestimates what seeing his father point a gun at Michael will do to him. In the weeks following CrashCon, a few things become clear. First, as much as Alex enjoys spending time with Forrest, he’s not ready to move on from Michael. He’s thankful he figures this out after a few dates when they can still part as friends. More relevant to his daily life is the realization that his father’s death did little to convince him that he’s no longer a threat.

Alex does everything he is supposed to. He actually keeps his appointment with his therapist, takes his medication regularly and tries keeping a dream journal. But the nightmares, all ending with Michael’s death at Jesse’s hands, come more nights than not.

One night when the breathing exercises and grounding techniques can’t help him forget the image of Michael strapped to an examination table, eyes wide and sightless, he reaches for his phone. He takes his first steady breath when he hears Michael’s sleepy, “Hey.”

“Are you ok?” Alex forces himself to ask.

“I’m fine. What’s wrong?” Michael instantly sounds alert.

“Nothing, I just,” Alex doesn’t know what to say. “Never mind, I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He hangs up before Michael can ask any more questions. Even though he doesn’t go back to sleep, it’s still one of his better nights.

A week later, he finds himself calling Michael again. This time when Michael answers, there is music and laughter in the background.

“Hey, Alex, you coming out,” Michael asks in a lazy drawl, letting Alex know he’s probably drunk.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you,” Alex hangs up quickly and hopes Michael won’t remember in the morning.

Two more quick calls with mumbled excuses have Alex avoiding Michael during the day. He’s afraid Michael will ask why he keeps calling him, and he can’t imagine telling him he needs confirmation he’s alive to get his heart rate back to normal.

The night he wakes to a world where Michael didn’t make it out of Caufield, he can’t even speak when Michael answers. He listens to him say hello and repeat his name a few times before hanging up and pulling the blankets over his head.

He ignores Michael's first two return calls, but picks up the third just before it goes to voicemail. 

“Alex, what the hell,” Michael says when Alex remains silent. “What’s going on?”

It’s the fear in Michael's voice that prompts Alex to answer. If he sounded angry or annoyed, he probably would hang up again. Still it’s hard to force himself to speak. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he finally confesses. “It helps to hear your voice.”

“Alex,” Michael’s voice is impossibly soft, a tone he hasn’t heard since before he enlisted.

“I’m sorry, I know I can’t keep calling you in the middle of the night.”

“Hey,” Michael stops him. “You can call me anytime. I’ll always answer, no matter what time it is.”

“I,” Alex still doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Hell, no,” Alex’s answer is immediate.

“Ok,” Michael laughs. “But let me know if that changes.”

“Not likely. Good night, Michael.”

It gets easier after that. When Alex calls, Michael doesn’t wait for him to speak or ask if he is alright, he just launches into a story.

“Have a told you Max is an idiot,” he starts one night. “He has a stack of letters about a foot high he refuses to send to Liz.”

“He writes her letters?”

“Almost every day,” Michael sighs dramatically. “I’m tempted to mail them myself, but I won’t,” he adds when Alex makes a sound of protest. “But I don’t know how much longer I can handle his epic levels of pining.”

Another call starts with, “Did you know there is more than one shade of periwinkle, because I sure as hell didn’t?”

“Isobel?” Alex asks as his breathing evens out.

“She’s redecorating and decided to ask me for a second opinion on paint colors. If I had known how much time could be spent looking at identical paint swatches I would have held out for way more than a drink at the Pony.”

Alex laughs and listens as Michael continues to tell exaggerated stories about Isobel’s home renovations.

Michael is true to his word and always answers when Alex calls. Some nights Alex never says a word other than “good night,” but other times he joins the conversation, sharing stories about his day or offering his opinion on whatever topic Michael decides to talk about. The calls rarely last long, just enough for Alex to calm down enough to go back to sleep or failing that, know he won’t spend the rest of the night replaying his dream.

One morning Alex wakes up still holding his phone, Michael’s soft snores in his ear. Realizing he fell asleep listening to Michael’s story about Sanders broken tow truck should have been comforting, but instead he panics. He’s only ever felt this safe with Michael, but it never lasts. He can’t let himself depend on it.

He doesn’t call Michael the next time he has a nightmare or the time after that. Instead of using any of the other supports he has, Alex isolates himself, coming home directly from work every day, ignoring texts. Even though he knows there is something off in his reasoning, he convinces himself the only way to get rid of his nightmares is to face them alone. He starts going to bed later and later, but still wakes up terrified he’s lost Michael for good. 

After more than a week of mostly sleepless nights, he gives in and stops at the Crashdown to pick up dinner, too exhausted to even think about cooking. He’s slumped in one of the back booths waiting for his food when Michael finds him.

“Hey, Alex, I think your order’s ready. I heard them call. . .” Michael’s voice trails off as he sits down and sees Alex’s face. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks,” Alex musters the energy to roll his eyes. He knows how bad he looks without Michael pointing it out.

“I just thought, I mean you haven’t called lately so I thought maybe the nightmares had stopped. Or maybe you started calling Valenti or something,” Michael looks away, but not before Alex catches the wounded look on his face.

“No,” Alex can’t imagine trusting anyone but Michael with this. It’s a level of vulnerability he’s never shared with anyone else, but he doesn’t know how to tell Michael that. “It’s not fair to keep calling you every time I have a nightmare.”

Michael turns back to him, “I don’t mind. I want to be there for you.”

“It’s too much,” Alex shakes his head.

“Alex, I know I can’t fix this for you. There are other things you could be doing like journaling, maybe changing your meds, there’s some eye therapy thing you could try.” At Alex’s quizzical look, Michael blushes before continuing. “I may have done some research just in case you ever wanted to talk about it. I know talking to me isn’t going to stop your nightmares for good, but if I can make it even a little better for you, I want to.”

It’s a lot, what Michael is offering, what it would mean for them. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am. And it’s not like it’s completely one sided. I like talking to you. I mean I hate that you have nightmares, but when some idiot customer comes in or Max is driving me crazy, I can’t wait to tell you about it.”

“You never called me.” It never occurred to Alex that his calls were anything but a burden. 

“We never really talked at all before this. Wasn’t sure what the rules were.”

Alex watches the way Michael knots his fingers together. “We still suck at this, talking to each other,” he says as he reaches over and places his hand over Michael’s.

“We’re getting better,” Michael shrugs. “Just have to keep trying.”

“I’d like that,” he agrees before pulling back when they call his name from the counter again. “I should get that before they give it away. Good night, Michael.”

Alex doesn’t dream that night or the next, but he calls Michael the next time he has a nightmare. He forgot how much it helps to hear his voice, to have proof that whatever he saw in his dream wasn’t real. 

Things start to fall into place after that. Michael doesn’t call him, but he starts sending texts, at first just pictures or reminders of something he wants to tell Alex later. But soon their text threads continue on and off throughout the day. 

When Greg sends him a box of Tripp’s journals they found when cleaning out the house, he and Michael go through them together. It hurt to read about the few stolen moments Tripp managed with Nora while she was in Caufield, always separated by glass, but it doesn’t hurt _them_. Alex feels like the tension that has colored their time together for the last few years is finally gone. They are moving toward something better, but neither of them are rushing.

He goes to a few open mic nights. He sticks to cover songs,and Michael always stays. He has a beer waiting when Alex is done, and they watch the rest of the show together.

They never mention their night time phone conversations. Alex thinks they still feel too fragile to bring out in the light of day. 

“If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?” Michael asks one night.

With you, is Alex’s first thought, but it’s too soon to say that so he tells Michael about the time he spent his leave in Greece. “You would love the beaches,” he says, but what he thinks is, I want to watch the sun turn your skin to gold. I want to watch you laugh when the waves knock you over. Someday, he thinks.

On a night it takes Alex listening to Michael talk about Isobel’s latest conquest for ten minutes before he can even speak, he tells Michael he put in an application for a therapy dog.

“Replacing me with a golden retriever,” Michael teases.

“Not exactly, but I bet the dog won’t hog the covers.”

“Seriously, Alex, I think it’s a great idea. They can train the dog to recognize your sleep patterns, right? So they can wake you up before the nightmare gets bad?”

“Something like that,” Alex agrees. “But it will be awhile before I hear anything.”

“Well, until then you have me, and I don’t shed.”

“Do you ever think about getting your degree?” Alex asks another night. “There’s so much more you can do online now.”

“I used to think about it a lot, but I don’t know. Probably not what you wanted to hear.”

Alex hesitates. They’d don’t usually talk about anything serious, but he brought this up, and it’s a misunderstanding he needs to correct. “I never cared what you did as long as it was what you wanted. I just didn’t want you to give up on yourself or settle for less than what you deserved.”

“I like what I do, and ever since finding out Sanders knew my mom, it feels like the right place to be.”

“Funny how things work out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sometimes we end up right where we need to be.”

The nightmares gradually space farther and farther apart. Alex works hard to find a combination of techniques that help the most. The nights he needs to call Michael become the exception rather than the norm. He’s thankful they’ve learned to carry the ease of those conversations into the time they spend together so he doesn’t feel like he is losing anything.

Alex should have known it was too good to last. He’s barely started his day when Colonel Rankin comes on base for an inspection. He served with Alex’s father and makes a point to seek him out. After offering his condolences, he tells Alex how proud Jesse must have been to have a son who sacrificed so much in service of his country. “It’s good to know the Manes legacy will live on in you,” he says before clapping Alex on the shoulder and continuing with the inspection.

Alex can’t move, can barely breath, until he is out of sight. He spends the rest of the day with a buzzing in his head and the feeling of being watched. He swears he catches sight of Jesse out of the corner of his eye, even though he knows that is impossible.

Going home is a relief, but the feeling of dread doesn’t go away. He stays up as late as he can then goes through every technique his therapist has taught him, but he knows it’s a waste of time. Still Alex is unprepared to dream about Michael’s death at _his_ hand rather than his father’s. It's shocking and horrible and so much worse than anything he’s imagined.

Alex wakes up gasping for breath, heart pounding. He doesn’t know how he manages to grab his phone and call Michael. Normally just the sound of Michael’s voice is enough to ground him, but tonight all he can hear is Michael screaming and begging him to stop. He starts to panic and it becomes harder and harder to breathe.

Michael stops talking for a moment. “Alex,” his voice is quieter, calmer. “I need you to breathe ok. I don’t know what’s wrong but you need to calm down. Try holding your breath for a second, five I think, then breathe in.”

Michael continues to try and talk him through his breathing exercises. Alex does his best to listen, to follow his directions, but every time he comes close to breathing normally, he gets another flash from his nightmare, and the panic starts all over again. 

Michael never stops, just keeps encouraging Alex, telling him he’s doing good, that he knows he’s trying. Alex can tell he’s getting nervous the longer this goes on. He wants to tell Michael it’s not his fault, wants to thank him, wants to warn Michael that he should be running away instead of helping him.

Suddenly, Alex hears a door slam. He flinches and must make a sound because Michael is apologizing.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, that was just me. I need you to listen for a minute, ok. I’m at your house. I can unlock the door and come in, but I don’t want to scare you. Can you tell me you understand?”

Alex takes a shuddering breath and tries to speak.

“Please, Alex,” Michael pleads. “I can’t do this unless you tell me it’s alright.”

“Yes,” he finally chokes out.

“Thank you, darlin, you did so good. I’m going to be with you in just a minute. Please just hold on for me.”

Alex listens to the sound of the door open and the way Michael’s voice echoes as he gets closer. Michael must hang up because when he enters the bedroom, he doesn’t hear him through the phone anymore.

“You’re here, thank God.” Even in the dark, Alex can see how Michael’s whole body seems to sag with relief.

“Can I touch you?” Michael asks.

Alex reaches one hand out and pulls Michael onto the bed. There are a few minutes of shuffling around, he thinks Michael takes his boots off, maybe some of his clothes. It must only take seconds, but it feels like hours before he feels Michael next to him. 

As soon as he turns toward him, Michael wraps his arms around him, and Alex finally feels like he can breathe. He buries his face in Michael’s shoulder, surrounds himself with his scent, and sobs. Michael just holds him and whispers nonsense into his ear until he falls asleep.

When Alex opens his eyes, there is sunlight streaming through his window, and he’s still wrapped in Michael’s arms. He looks up, and Michael smiles before brushing the hair back from his face.

“You back with me? He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Alex nods, “I’m sor”

“No” Michael shakes his head. “Please don’t apologize to me. If you do, I think I will cry, and we both know I’m an ugly crier.”

Alex manages a weak smile. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets Michael’s hands stroking up and down his back soothe him. Eventually he takes a deep breath, “Since CrashCon, I’ve been dreaming about my father killing you.”

“Alex,” there’s so much heartbreak in that one word.

“Last night it was me, I was the one who did it. It felt so real.”

“It wasn’t though. I’m right here.”

“Thank you for coming. I would have never thought to ask, but I’m not sure anything else would have convinced me it was a dream.”

“Anytime, I hope you know that,” Michael squeezes Alex’s hand tightly.

“I do,” Alex squeezes back.

“Oh, I may have called you off work, is that ok?” Michael looks a little worried.

“Thank’s for thinking of that. I should see if my therapist can fit me in.”

“I can drive you if you want,” Michael offers tentatively.

The thought of not being alone easing some of the anxiety that started building when Alex thought about facing the day. “I’d like that.”

The setback takes Alex time to recover from. It’s almost a month before he manages more than three nights in a row without a nightmare. He and Michael continue to spend time together, but Alex can’t help but notice how the progress they had made in their relationship has stalled. He catches Michael reaching for him but pulling back before they touch or starting to speak before looking away and falling silent.

“Did I scare you, that night?” Alex finally asks.

“No, I mean yes, but no,” Michael stumbles through his answer.

“That doesn’t really help.”

“I mean, yeah, I was scared for you. I felt so helpless when I couldn’t get through to you,” Michael runs his hand through his hair before reaching toward him. Alex catches his hand and threads their fingers together before Michael can pull back. “But I wasn’t afraid of you or scared away, if that’s what you mean.”

“I understand if seeing that made you realize a relationship with me would be more difficult than you thought.” Now Alex was the one who felt like pulling away.

“God, no,” Michael hastens to reassure him. “I love you, Alex. Even through all the bullshit we’ve been through, and the times we’ve been apart, I’ve always loved you. Being with you is what I want, what I feel like we’ve been working toward. But I know how hard it is for you to be vulnerable like you were that night, I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Alex closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by how it feels to hear that after everything, Michael still loves him. When he opens his eyes, Michael is watching him anxiously, waiting for his response. “I love you too, and I feel safe with you. It’s because I can trust you to be with me when I’m scared or need help that I know I’m ready to be with you. If that’s what you want, too.”

Michael brings their clasped hands to his mouth, holding them there for a moment before kissing them. “I want that so much,” he wipes his eyes before continuing. “So if I asked you to dinner tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Yes,” Alex says as he closes the remaining distance between them and kisses Michael.

Alex wakes slowly, stretching and yawning before reaching for the phone.

“I’m on my way home. Should be there in fifteen,” Michael says as soon as he picks up.

“While you were off bonding with Max. I power washed the patio and spread the mulch in the flower beds.”

“I told you to leave that for tomorrow.”

“Yes, but now we have our Sunday free. I took a nap on the couch when I finished. I actually just woke up, and wanted to tell you about the dream I had.”

“Are you ok? Titan didn’t wake you up?” Alex hears the tension in Michael’s voice and immediately reassures him.

“I’m good, I promise,” He looks over at Titan, and smiles at the black lab still sleeping on his feet. Between his training, and the stability he and Michael have finally found, Alex rarely has nightmares. He feels bad for not realizing what Michael would think when he mentioned a dream. “Titan’s still asleep. It wasn’t that kind of dream.” 

“Alex,” Michael groans when he notices the teasing note in Alex’s voice. “Did you have a sex dream about us?”

“I guess you’ll find out when you get home.” Alex laughs when he hears the engine in Michael’s truck roar.

“In that case, I’ll see you in ten.”


End file.
